Sunday, September 30, 2007
Armed
How precious it was to me yesterday to witness the depths of my daughter's heart. I got some terrible news that my brother-in-law, her uncle, got a call to go to Iraq. This was unexpected as my sister and her family had not anticipated over seas duty for another six months and this duty was not suppose to take him to the dangerous parts of Iraq. So, I shared this with my daughter as we sat together at Panera Bread. By the way, I love to spend one on one time with both of my kids. If you don't do this...do. My daughter, without skipping a beat said, "Let's pray." She folded her hands, bowed her head and began a prayer, "Lord Jesus, please protect my Uncle from injury. Please do not let him die. I pray that he would put on the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, the gospel shoes of peace, that he would take up the sword of the spirit and the shield of faith. In Jesus name, amen." She looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes and smiled at me and said, "That's the armor of God, isn't it??" She asked as though she had prayed the wrong prayer. Tears streamed down my cheek as I said, "Your prayer was perfect, honey." And really, it was. It doesn't matter how my brother-in-law arms himself for the physical battle, his commander in chief doesn't live in a home made with human hands. His Champion arms him with all the weapons he needs to make it in this life. Glory hallelujah.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Deep Breath
I am holding on to the scripture that says "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for thou are with me!" (From Psalm 23). I'm not really near death although sometimes I think that a newborn's cry could put you quite close.
I am watching a 5 1/2 month old little boy who is a precious gem. He is a chubby, strong-willed boy that is quite, how to put this, blessed with a lot of doting and attention. The trouble is...I can dote but I also have a 4 and 6 year old who need my attention. I can't get this little guy to take consistent naps for the life of me. I discovered today the true meaning of the word hysterical. If I could have video-taped the cry he produced (it really was a PRODUCTION!!) when I put him in his bed for a nap I probably could have made good money selling it to Webster's online dictionary under the "hysterical" entry. Good night! You would have thought that the sky was falling. So what to do? He doesn't want to be rocked in my arms or set down to settle. He is tired and needs a nap but wants nothing to do with sleeping. He is even disliking his car seat on rides. Usually that would soothe...not so for him. My son said to me, "Mommy, I don't yike his crying." Amen brother. I don't either.
I can get advice but really this situation calls for my superhero. If my God can raise Jesus from the dead and says that kind of power is available to me - open up the floodgates. Precious Lord, you knew these circumstances before they came. You walk with me through the valley. You hold every answer, every ounce of patience I need and you have shown me compassion so that I might be compassionate. Thank you for all you have done and ALL YOU ARE YET TO DO. I look forward to the blog that will document an answer to this prayer! Amen and Amen!!
I am watching a 5 1/2 month old little boy who is a precious gem. He is a chubby, strong-willed boy that is quite, how to put this, blessed with a lot of doting and attention. The trouble is...I can dote but I also have a 4 and 6 year old who need my attention. I can't get this little guy to take consistent naps for the life of me. I discovered today the true meaning of the word hysterical. If I could have video-taped the cry he produced (it really was a PRODUCTION!!) when I put him in his bed for a nap I probably could have made good money selling it to Webster's online dictionary under the "hysterical" entry. Good night! You would have thought that the sky was falling. So what to do? He doesn't want to be rocked in my arms or set down to settle. He is tired and needs a nap but wants nothing to do with sleeping. He is even disliking his car seat on rides. Usually that would soothe...not so for him. My son said to me, "Mommy, I don't yike his crying." Amen brother. I don't either.
I can get advice but really this situation calls for my superhero. If my God can raise Jesus from the dead and says that kind of power is available to me - open up the floodgates. Precious Lord, you knew these circumstances before they came. You walk with me through the valley. You hold every answer, every ounce of patience I need and you have shown me compassion so that I might be compassionate. Thank you for all you have done and ALL YOU ARE YET TO DO. I look forward to the blog that will document an answer to this prayer! Amen and Amen!!
Monday, September 03, 2007
Screaming Banchees and 2 Crockpots
Today was a holiday. A day off work for my husband and a day off of school for my kids. Because of the holiday, I promised my daughter that I would sleep over in her room last night. We slept on an air mattress together. She fell right to sleep. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. My son of course had to join us. He kept trying to roll over me. He thinks its funny to make a "num, num, num" sound when he is fake sleeping. For some reason my nerves couldn't handle all the num, num, nums. He got moved to his own bed. I love it that he doesn't wake up when I move him.
Ahh. More room for me. I finally drifted off to sleep until I heard a scream. I bolted out of the air-mattress, which if you have ever tried to do is like trying to balance on a row boat. I stumbled a bit but found my bearings. I figured out where my daughter's table was with my big tow. Still in a stupor and with a throbbing appendage I raced to my son's room. He was fast asleep. I raced to my bedroom, stopping abruptly to tip toe around something in the hall, it was a shadow, only to find my husband snoring. Must have been a screaming banchee. I quietly walked back to my daughter's room trying to convince myself that it was still great fun to have a sleep over with her. I rolled back into bed which is really more like a raft I think. Why do they put ridges in something that is suppose to be a portable bed. What a dumb idea. As if ridges are going to make you forget that you are sleeping on the floor on something that moves when you do and makes a horrible grunt when you roll. And why is it that my hip or shoulder always feel like I was mashing them against a brick wall all night when I wake up?? Maybe it would be more comfortable if I were floating on it in a pool! Anyway, I "snuggled in" only to find that the pills on the sheet bothered me. I began to feel really bad as this was the bed and the sheet set that I give to my in laws when they come. Sorry guys, it wasn't meant to be this uncomfortable! I did manage to forget about the scratchy sheets and my daughter's snores. Finally, I slept.
Until I was blasted awake with a blow to the face! I sat straight up only to find that it was my daughter's foot that had kicked me right in the lip. What in the world? How is it that she moves so much in her sleep. I didn't have to think too long to remember her daddy, my breaching whale. He has mastered the art of raising up and turning over in one thunderous movement. I on the other hand have finally mastered the art of not waking while this is taking place. I immediately felt my lip get fat and began to swallow my saliva quickly to determine whether or not there was blood. While I was doing this, I caught her foot headed my way again and gently placed it aside. I tried to move her back to the normal head-on-the-pillow sleeping position only to have her move and settle in an unnatural ready-to-kick-mom position once again.
I rolled over and placed my back to my daughter in order to insure my safety. I had a very hard time going back to sleep between my toe pain and fat lip. By the time I settled, my daughter woke up ready to start her day. Shortly after, my son came in and had a very puzzled look on his face. He began to scream and cry about wanting to sleep on the air mattress with us and demanded to know who moved him. I tried to reason with him, telling him he was actually blessed with a safe place to sleep in his own bed. The only way I could get him to stop crying was to convince him to go wake up his daddy.
I slowly made my way to the espresso machine hoping to boost my alertness. We decided to go shopping on this holiday. We found a coupon for a great cooking store. I had just been given a new slow cooker cook book. I headed out to find a bigger crock pot. After lots of whines about why we had to go into this store, coupled with my daughter telling me she was close to death because of her thirst, we made it to the crock pots. The one I wanted was $50 but I settled on one for $30 that was at least larger than the one I had. After making it back home I pulled out my old crock pot and guess what? The new one was exactly the same size. Time for more espresso. Now that I think about it, stay-at-home moms probably keep Starbucks in business! Good grief.
My toe still hurts. I am tired from the unsettled night of screaming banshees and kickboxing daughters. I'm frustrated that now I have 2 crock pots that are too small for all my new recipes. But I'm thankful for the holiday and that I can spend it unwinding from my long night.
Ahh. More room for me. I finally drifted off to sleep until I heard a scream. I bolted out of the air-mattress, which if you have ever tried to do is like trying to balance on a row boat. I stumbled a bit but found my bearings. I figured out where my daughter's table was with my big tow. Still in a stupor and with a throbbing appendage I raced to my son's room. He was fast asleep. I raced to my bedroom, stopping abruptly to tip toe around something in the hall, it was a shadow, only to find my husband snoring. Must have been a screaming banchee. I quietly walked back to my daughter's room trying to convince myself that it was still great fun to have a sleep over with her. I rolled back into bed which is really more like a raft I think. Why do they put ridges in something that is suppose to be a portable bed. What a dumb idea. As if ridges are going to make you forget that you are sleeping on the floor on something that moves when you do and makes a horrible grunt when you roll. And why is it that my hip or shoulder always feel like I was mashing them against a brick wall all night when I wake up?? Maybe it would be more comfortable if I were floating on it in a pool! Anyway, I "snuggled in" only to find that the pills on the sheet bothered me. I began to feel really bad as this was the bed and the sheet set that I give to my in laws when they come. Sorry guys, it wasn't meant to be this uncomfortable! I did manage to forget about the scratchy sheets and my daughter's snores. Finally, I slept.
Until I was blasted awake with a blow to the face! I sat straight up only to find that it was my daughter's foot that had kicked me right in the lip. What in the world? How is it that she moves so much in her sleep. I didn't have to think too long to remember her daddy, my breaching whale. He has mastered the art of raising up and turning over in one thunderous movement. I on the other hand have finally mastered the art of not waking while this is taking place. I immediately felt my lip get fat and began to swallow my saliva quickly to determine whether or not there was blood. While I was doing this, I caught her foot headed my way again and gently placed it aside. I tried to move her back to the normal head-on-the-pillow sleeping position only to have her move and settle in an unnatural ready-to-kick-mom position once again.
I rolled over and placed my back to my daughter in order to insure my safety. I had a very hard time going back to sleep between my toe pain and fat lip. By the time I settled, my daughter woke up ready to start her day. Shortly after, my son came in and had a very puzzled look on his face. He began to scream and cry about wanting to sleep on the air mattress with us and demanded to know who moved him. I tried to reason with him, telling him he was actually blessed with a safe place to sleep in his own bed. The only way I could get him to stop crying was to convince him to go wake up his daddy.
I slowly made my way to the espresso machine hoping to boost my alertness. We decided to go shopping on this holiday. We found a coupon for a great cooking store. I had just been given a new slow cooker cook book. I headed out to find a bigger crock pot. After lots of whines about why we had to go into this store, coupled with my daughter telling me she was close to death because of her thirst, we made it to the crock pots. The one I wanted was $50 but I settled on one for $30 that was at least larger than the one I had. After making it back home I pulled out my old crock pot and guess what? The new one was exactly the same size. Time for more espresso. Now that I think about it, stay-at-home moms probably keep Starbucks in business! Good grief.
My toe still hurts. I am tired from the unsettled night of screaming banshees and kickboxing daughters. I'm frustrated that now I have 2 crock pots that are too small for all my new recipes. But I'm thankful for the holiday and that I can spend it unwinding from my long night.
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